Strangers
by DC41781
Summary: 21 years ago, Norma Massett made a choice. Now, it's coming back to haunt her in a way she never could've imagined. AU where Norman and Norma are unaware of their blood relation.
1. Part One: I Wanna Be Yours

He's never been a hard drinker. Tonight, though, there's a buzz in his veins and the booze are flowing. It wasn't even his idea to come here, but he's far from complaining. His birthday was three days ago, so tonight's not even a celebration. It's just an excuse for fading into oblivion. By eleven thirty, he's fading all alone, his friends all having ditched him for one bullshit excuse after the next.

Norman doesn't mind because it's after Richard and Emma and the others leave that he sees her. He's heading back to the bar from the corner booth, desperate for a refill and she's at the counter, wearing a tight black dress and making conversation with the bartender. Blonde hair that falls to her shoulders, blue eyes that shine even in the dull light and a figure women half her age would kill for. She's in that purgatory between thirty and forty, but Norman couldn't care less. She's a fucking goddess framed in the dank world of this shithole bar and he can't stop staring. An unknowing moth to an unknowing flame.

Somewhere in his gawking, he manages to find his manners. "Hey."

Her gaze flicks over to him. Not drunk. Not even close. She's nursing a Coors Light slow as she can go. Norman isn't sure if that's good news for him or not. Either way, she sends him the same smirk she sent the bartender. Friendly, not irritated. "Hi."

For some reason or another (that's probably related to his inebriation), her voice brings up the image of lapping ocean waves. Strange, soft, and melodic. He feels like if he closed his eyes, he'd drown in it. He wants to. Drown in it, that is. He didn't want to close his eyes; he wanted to keep looking right at her. "Any particular reason you're here by yourself?"

The bar isn't loud; the crowd's tapering off. It's a Wednesday night. And really, Norman wouldn't have cared if the world outside this place were coming to end, he would stay right here with this woman who baffled and intrigued him.

"Probably because my husband's about to become my ex-husband." Her words are matter of fact, free from bite or bark. Norman's glad. She looks him up and down. His messy brown hair that fell just short of his sparkling blue eyes. His drunkenness is obvious, but it doesn't necessarily turn her off. He seems to have enough wherewithal to understand what he's doing. Tall, lanky, but not a complete stick. She can make out an outline of well-defined pectorals beneath the navy blue dress shirt he wears. The top two buttons are open, exposing a small expanse of bare skin. She licks her lips. "What about you?"

He shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. Childlike. "My friends are lightweights. Couldn't miss their imaginary curfews."

The woman laughs and it's such a pretty sound that Norman momentarily loses his bearings. "How old are you anyway?"

"Twenty five." Okay, so really, he's twenty one, but if he tells her that, he has a feeling he'll strike out before he's seen a pitch. He holds out his hand. "Norman."

Her eyebrows furrow as she takes it. "Norma." Another laugh, this time in shared disbelief. Their hands separate, but electricity still tingles up and down his veins. He swallows to alleviate the sudden rush of nerves.

"That's quite the old-fashioned name for someone so young." She says.

He wants to drop a line here (_I could say the same to you), _but somehow he knows that that would lose her. Instead, he nods. "What can I say? My mother has a strange sense of humor."

She shifts on the bar stool. Whether it's discomfort or unwanted attraction, Norma can't really be sure. This kid was doing something to her that was impossible to label. It's new.

"What are you doing hitting on a woman fifteen years older than you? Surely your mother didn't teach you that."

"Because you captured my attention and kept it. Age is a number, Norma. If it really bothers you, just keep reminding yourself that I'm perfectly legal. And single."

That earns him a flirtatious giggle. "Good to know."

* * *

It shouldn't happen, but it does. She drags him back to her apartment and pulls him into her, mouth to mouth, body to body. They're barely through the door before she's popping buttons on his shirt and shoving it from his shoulders. His moan bounces off the silence in the room and falls onto her, turning into heat that trails down her skin. She breaks the kiss. His hands get a firm hold on her hips and tug her closer. Her fingers trace over his bare chest. He's all toned, lean muscle beneath his good boy clothes. Absolutely gorgeous. A seductive smirk lifts the corners of her mouth as she leads him backward into the blackness of her bedroom.

* * *

Later, she's cuddled into his side, lazily touching him because she couldn't seem to stop. His nails are scraping at the slope of her back, so apparently, she isn't the only one. Somewhere inside, there's nothing aside from a blaring warning. This wasn't a good idea no matter how good he felt under her hands.

Her cotton sheets afford him the slightest bit of modesty. They're draped over his waist, hiding his more intimate areas from view. Norma hadn't bothered to cover herself before she'd collapsed into his arms. His presence was keeping her warm enough. She raises her head so she can look into his soft cerulean eyes.

"You're something."

His whole body shakes when he laughs. "Thanks. And, uh, likewise." The hand that isn't sending shivers up her spine comes up and slides a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "You're incredible. Really." Its part disbelief and part awe. Her heart melts into a puddle. Drops of it run down her ribs and fall onto the wings of the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

She leans down and kisses him, moaning contentedly against his mouth. When she pulls away, her expression takes on a playful quality. "Next time, we're meeting somewhere that isn't a low class bar."

"Okay, so a high class bar. I can do that." A light slap falls across his chest. "Ow." He feigns, then loosens up. "There'll be a next time?"

"Yes. Is that all right with you?"

"Definitely." Another kiss and Norma's falling faster than she's ever fallen in her whole life. This was dangerous territory. She couldn't feel anything for this kid. Nothing good could come from it.

"Listen, I'm free all day tomorrow." She glances over at the clock that sits on the bedside table, boasting red numbers that portrayed early morning. "Or today, I guess. Do you want to hang out here for a while? We can have breakfast."

"That depends on whether or not you're the kind of cook my mother is. In which case, I'd have to say no."

She slaps him again. "Shut up, I'm a good cook. My husband and my son never complained."

"You have a son?"

"Yeah. Dylan. He's almost eighteen." Her pallor whitens. "That's not a problem, is it?"

Norman shakes his head to hide the uncertainty bubbling within him. A son. A son that was barely younger than him. Relief unties the knot. He's glad he lied about his age at the bar.

"No, of course not. It surprised me, that's all. Are you two close?"

A heavy sigh. "Used to be."

"What happened?"

"Divorce is a tricky thing, Norman. Children have the outsider perspective. They see what they want see and believe what they want to believe."

"Oh." Sympathy floods through him. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Is he your only kid?"

Norma goes stiff in his embrace. Her gaze shifts away, desperate and uncomfortable.

"Hey, you all right?"

It seems like entire lifetimes pass before Norma comes back to him. "Yeah, I'm okay."

He rubs the tension from her shoulders. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. I…" She inhales a sharp breath and lets it go. "I had another son. I gave him up. I'd only been seventeen at the time and I hadn't…" Tears start falling. Not sobbing. Just quiet sadness that drops an anvil on Norman's chest.

"It's okay. Every one's done something they're not proud of."

Her head drops to his chest. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you this. I guess I feel comfortable with you."

"It's fine. You don't have to apologize. I want to know you. This is as good a place as any to start."

She sniffles and wipes at her nose. "What about you? Siblings?"

"Nope, just me. My mother couldn't deal with any more. My dad's a hot shot businessman, so she practically raised me on her own. He's a good guy, though, don't get me wrong. He just isn't around much."

"She did a good job with you."

He grins at her. "I'm sure she'd love to hear that. If you ever meet her that should be the first thing you say. Good way to break the ice. You raised your son well and yes, I am having sex with him. You should know he's good at that, too." Mischief colors his features.

Her eyes roll toward the ceiling. "You're insufferable."

"I am. But, you like it."

"I do."

* * *

"God, Norman." There's cold tile against her back and he's on his knees in front of her with his face between her thighs. She watches him intently, her eyes hooded, her hand planted at the back of his head. The water pouring from the shower head has long since gone cold, but neither of them feel it. A whimper falls from her lips when he gets her the right way and he hums his approval right into her.

It vibrates through every nerve ending. "Norman." It's breathier now, maybe four feet closer to the cliff's edge.

She has one leg draped over his shoulder, her calf warm against his back, the heel of her foot pressing into his spine. Her knee's bent beside his cheek. His hand grabs at her thigh, rough and unforgiving. Another whimper as his mouth shows no mercy. His tongue, his lips, his teeth. God.

Norma falls over the edge and Norman takes her for everything she's worth.

"Jesus." She mutters, still breathless. Norman slowly rises to his feet. Her essence glistens on his mouth and he's hard. The way he licks his lips is fiendish.

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. In her daze, she manages to find the knob for the shower. It squeaks in protest but obeys. She opens her arms for him and he comes to her, kissing her deep. She's still on his tongue. A groan lets itself loose against his teeth. Two of his fingers press to her clit.

"Damn it." She rips herself from him. "You're out of your mind."

"Maybe. Or maybe I just know not to waste the attention of a beautiful woman."

* * *

He watches her comb her hair. It's graceless. After all, he distracted her in the shower. So, now, her hair is already half way dry and matted in places. She could kill him for making this so difficult. And, she could kill him for laughing at her awkward tugs at the hairbrush.

"It's your fault." She says. "If you hadn't…"

"I didn't hear you complaining. Unless the new word for stop is Norman. If that's the case, I sincerely apologize." It's good-natured. He's decided he likes getting on her nerves.

"Oh, shut up."

A laugh tumbles out of him before he can stop it. "Sore loser."

"What makes you think I lost anything? I seem to recall you doing all the manual labor."

His arms trap her and pull her close. He's barely a breath away. "And I seem to recall you reaping all the reward."

The brush falls from her fingertips and lands on the bed behind them, forgotten. "That's right."

"Well then, I hardly think I did you a disservice." His mouth finds her pulse point.

"You did not." Her grip folds into his short hair. She sighs as his teeth nip at her skin. "In fact, you are allowed to perform that particular service any time you like."

Lust twists and bends inside him. "Fuck."

She jerks his head back with both hands and kisses him hard. He almost has trouble keeping up with her passion. God, this woman. One hand trails down his body and dips into his jeans. She strokes at him until his flesh is throbbing in the small circle of her grip. He spins her around so she's facing the bed. Her hand comes loose and the kiss tears at the seams.

"Bend over." His voice is ripe with arousal and need. She shivers as she does what he tells her, pressing her palms into the mattress. Her panties fall to her ankles and there's a rustle that signifies his jeans doing the same. The groan he lets out when he pushes in almost rips her to pieces.

"Fuck, Norma." He bows his head and closes his eyes, his movements in and out of her gentle and deliberate.

She lifts herself up, reaching one hand back toward his neck so she can kiss him. He obeys her silent command. A helpless moan sounds. He doesn't know who it was. Her teeth settle on his bottom lip, biting down and tugging outward. He takes her harder. Her hips absorb and come back to meet the assault. His forehead falls to her shoulder.

He feels the warmth of her fingers thread into his hair and the warmth of her body close in around him. "Come for me." It's a heated whisper let go against the crown of his head. Her breath is a slow gust of wind.

Norman falls apart.

* * *

"Favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Favorite movie?"

"Strangers on a Train."

"Really?" She looks at him like he's a space alien.

"What? You think I'm too young to appreciate old movies?" He sips at his orange juice and gives her a stink eye over the rim of the glass.

"No. That's just a strange answer. Favorite record?"

A knowing smile crosses his face. "Abbey Road."

"Wow. You're a connoisseur of the older genre, aren't you?"

"I hope you're including yourself in that."

She ducks her head to hide the blush creeping up in her cheeks.

"What about your son? What's he into?"

"Nothing as old as Abbey Road, that's for sure. He was a grunge kid for a time." Nostalgia hits her hard for a moment. She has an image of Dylan at thirteen trying his hardest to be brooding while still being a mama's boy at heart. That sure didn't impress his friends. "Didn't last long. He's a good kid. Gets good grades, steady job, nice girlfriend. All that despite the shit John and I put him through."

"Is he going to go off on his own after the divorce is final? There isn't going to be a custody battle, right?"

"No custody battle. He's already moved in with his girlfriend. She's got her own place."

"Good for him. Better for me." He stands and takes his empty plate to the sink. The kid's got manners and charm. A double whammy if she's ever seen one. She's on her feet, too, and then she's right beside him, running warm fingers down his neck and kissing his cheek.

"Yeah, maybe."

"What do you mean 'maybe'? This way, I get you all to myself."

"You sound so sure."

"That's because I am."

* * *

Norma falls asleep at four in the afternoon. Norman kneels beside the bed, observing her closed eyes and peaceful smile. He runs soft fingers through her hair.

"Norma, baby. Hey." Her eyes flutter back to life.

He goes on. "I'm going to go home and change. I'll pick something up on the way back here. Chinese sound good to you?"

"Mmhm."

His lips press to hers for a moment. Her hand holds him in place. "Norma. Come on." The words are said into her mouth. She doesn't stop. "Norma."

They separate, but stay mere centimeters apart. "I like having you here." She whispers.

"I like being here. Believe me. Just give me an hour. I'll even stop by the video store and get a couple movies. You won't be able to get rid of me." She pulls him back to her.

The pad of her index finger rides his jawline. "Bye, baby."

His smile is warm. "Bye, beautiful. I'll be back soon."

* * *

He rents Strangers on a Train, but it hardly keeps his attention. Norma's the cause for that as she nestles into his side on the couch, one arm over his waist and her head against his shoulder. Her legs are bent underneath her, her knees pressing into Norman's left leg. That isn't the only reason why he's distracted. He's thinking. His thoughts are composed of her and how he's known her for twenty four hours and somehow feels the deepest connection he's ever felt to another human being. It's like he's found what always be meant to complete him. He has no clue what that means and even worse, he doesn't how Norma feels.

That scares him more than anything. What if he was only a distraction for her? What if the connection stopped with him and his overactive thought processes?

Carousel music from the film's soundtrack seeps through his haze. Norma hides her face in his neck.

That makes him chuckle. "Oh, come on. It's not scary."

"Yeah, it is." She replies. Her hot breath shoots up his pleasure sensors. "The guy's a freaking lunatic."

"Well, of course. That's the whole idea. The seemingly normal tennis player gets caught up with the psycho and people die. It's great." He presses his lips to her forehead. "You've never had such unpleasant feelings for someone that you've wanted to kill them?"

Her bright eyes find his. "Hasn't everybody?"

"See? That's what this movie is about. That feeling. Hating somebody to the point where you'd go to any measure to rid yourself of them. It's about hitting your limit and going a little mad, you know?"

"Yeah. You don't think that's a little scary?"

Norman scoffs. "It's the scariest thing there is. That's why you're so uncomfortable."

She nuzzles into him again, her eyes away from the screen. His fingers stroke at her spine. "I can turn it off if you want."

"No, don't."

* * *

Norman taps his finger on his chin pensively. "Hmmm." He licks his lips. Her eyes follow his tongue across. "You ever had sex in a public place?"

Blue widens. "What? Come on, Norman."

"Don't even try to evade the question." He's still holding her. The movie's long over, but the sofa's still occupied. Norman's on his back with her flush against him, one knee pressing suggestively into his crotch.

"All right. Airplane bathroom. And maybe a movie theater once."

His tongue moves to the other side of his mouth. "Remind me to buy a couple plane tickets. Where do you wanna go?"

Norma's eyes roll melodramatically. She isn't surprised by his reaction. "Have you ever had sex in a public place?"

Norman responds with what can only be described as a haughty chuckle. It trembles through him and into her. "I had this girlfriend in high school who coaxed me into making love on the football field during lunch period."

"I'm sure it didn't take much persuasion on her part."

"You would be correct." His eyebrows rise to his hairline. He looks away, longingly into nothing. "Damn, I miss her."

Norma hits him hard across the chest. "Screw you."

"Anytime you want, baby. Anytime you want." His head turns toward the clock on the wall above her bedroom door. "Holy shit." He's been here for thirty six hours.

"What?" Norma's lips trace the tendon in his neck. His skin carries the scent of the lilac soap that sits in her shower.

"I've been here a while. Do you want me to go?"

"Not unless you have to." The smirk she wears heats him up. Her knee presses harder between his legs.

"Hey, hey. Stop that." Soft hands cup her ass. "I'm not going. Even if I had somewhere else to be, I'd still want to be right here."

"I know."

He leaves a gentle kiss on her temple. "I feel something for you. I can't even really explain it, but it's there. A connection, you know? I feel like I've known you forever. Or maybe that I was always meant to meet you."

She stares at him and he watches the confusion etch itself into her face. "I'm sorry. That was weird, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. But, I feel the same way. There's something here, isn't there?"

"I think so." His arms enclose around her, tightening and keeping her against him. Beethoven's fifth breaks the comfortable silence. Norma jumps.

"What the hell's that?"

"My ringtone." The corner of his mouth perks up. "Let me get it." He doesn't go without kissing her on the mouth. It lasts for all of half a second, but it turns Norma to putty. His form disappears into the dark bedroom and the music comes to a halt.

"Hey." He steps back out, his phone glued to his ear, exasperation evident in his slumped posture. "I'm sorry. I was out. With Emma and Richard and all them, mom…I'm not home." A heavy sigh breaks past gritted teeth. "Mom. I said I was sorry. Okay, I didn't mean to worry you…Where am I?" Frightened eyes find Norma sitting up on the couch, staring back blankly. She shrugs. "I'm in the city with a friend." He winks at her. "You don't know her, mom. Yes, she's very nice." Norma suppresses a giggle behind her hand. "Okay, mom. Yeah. I'll come by tomorrow, I promise. I love you, too." He blows a kiss into the phone and everything inside Norma melts. She stands up as he disconnects the call.

Her face reads like a book of romance and adoration. Her arms circle his waist. "That was really sweet." It's warm and heavy and it burrows into Norman's body and leaves him aching.

"You think so?"

"I do."

He laughs at the heat in her eyes. "You know, you could be the only woman I've ever dated whose actually turned on by my mama's boy status."

"I'm not turned on. I'm endeared." Her hand cups him between his legs. His breath hitches. "I might be a tiny bit more turned on now."

He frames her face with his long, elegant fingers. "Come here." The kiss is intense, desperate and it's so consuming that he doesn't even manage to get her back to the couch. He lowers her to the floor, settling over her before she can protest the location.

She doesn't really seem to mind, anyway.

* * *

He's gentle this time, clearly wanting to make it last. Norma traps him with her body, arms and legs all the way around him while he pumps his hips in a steady rhythm. Broken breaths caress the skin at his neck. She can feel his eyelashes flutter on her cheek as he closes his eyes.

"You feel good." The arousal on her breath shakes him to the core. His hips pick up of their accord.

Norma throws her head back and Norman groans at the feel of her pulling him in even closer.

"Don't stop. God, Norman, don't ever stop."

* * *

"What are you thinking about?" Norman's head shoots up, his eyes colliding with Emma's curious gaze.

"Hmm?"

"You've been staring off into space for five whole minutes. You all right?"

It, of course, wasn't anything bad. He'd been thinking about Norma. Again. What she was doing, how she was, if her days seemed to drag without him the way his did without her.

"I'm fine, Emma. Really." He's having coffee with her in a Barnes and Noble. For ten minutes, she'd been ignoring him for her laptop, her keystrokes constant and soothing. Now he's caught in her crosshairs which is decidedly the same place he always seems to end up in.

"Okay." Her oxygen tank sits beside the small table and he watches her hand close around the handle, the blood draining slightly from her knuckles, casting them a lighter shade than the rest of her.

The laptop snaps shut. "I have to go find something for my paper. I'll be back."

"All right. I'm going to walk around."

* * *

He doesn't really mean to stumble into the poetry section, but he does. He sifts through collection after collection, letting the words of devotion seep into his eyes and his mind and his heart. Giving any of this over to Norma after only two weeks of being together would freak her out. Or maybe it's that Norman's too afraid to admit he might actually feel something so deep for her after such little time. That couldn't end well for him. She'd run from him, call him a creep and slam the door in his face. The fear is cold. He wouldn't screw this up. He couldn't lose what seemed so…epic.

He cringes. God, now he's freaking himself out.

He doesn't even hear Emma come up behind him, though he should. The wheels of her oxygen tank creating friction on the carpet made a sound that could've woken the dead.

"What are you doing?" She's looking over his shoulder, studying the page he's got the latest book open to. He slams it closed, louder than an atomic bomb going off.

"Nothing."

He turns so he can look at her and immediately decides that it was a really bad idea. She scrutinizes him with those big doe eyes, seeing through the fissures inside, trying to find the new piece that made everything come together and change him.

"You seem different."

"What do you mean?"

Her eyes fall to the 1,000 page volume in his hands. "Well, for one thing, you're reading poetry."

The handle of her oxygen tank squeaks under the pressure her fingers inflict. Norman has to hold back the urge to walk away from her. She always got this way when he went into one of these love struck phases.

"I like poetry." He replies.

"No, you don't. You whined about it when we studied it in school."

"Maybe I'm developing a taste for it."

"Or maybe you're trying to win over some defenseless girl. Again."

They lock eyes. Norman's stone faced. Emma's expectant. He gives in. "Okay, I met someone. But, I swear it's different this time. This one will last."

"I'm sure." Sarcasm drips off the edges of her tone.

"Whatever."

* * *

Norma tries to stay away. She really does. But, her thoughts never stray too far from him. He's stolen her; taken her over and left no logic or rationality behind. The word love bounces itself back and forth across her cerebellum and she has to laugh at herself. Love wasn't possible after ten rolls in the hay and a handful of phone calls and face to face conversations. Was it?

Her romance with John lasted seventeen years. She'd met him when she was twenty three and had fallen for him rapidly. His charm and his deep brown eyes and his devotion to being a father to an unplanned child. It hadn't taken much to own her, just as it wasn't taking much with Norman.

Maybe it's just how she falls. Quick with no parachute or destination. John had betrayed her, but Norman seemed genuine. Enamored. And she even more so with him.

And she tries to stay away. But, he stays with her. His touch, his voice, everything that came with it.

She dials the number and doesn't even allow herself to back out. He answers on the second ring.

"Hi, beautiful. How are you?"

Stupid. Norma's heart sways and folds in on itself. Her feelings tighten in her chest, suffocating her. She couldn't beat them down if she wanted to.

"I'm all right. You?"

"Better now. What's going on?"

The smile splits her lips without a conscious thought. "Not much. I miss you."

A heavy sigh travels the line. "I know what you mean. I've been thinking about you since I woke up this morning."

"It's only been two days since we've seen each other."

"I know...so you want me to come over?"

"I have to see the divorce lawyer at 8 tomorrow. I can't afford the distraction. And by distraction I mean the marathon sex."

"It's the only way to go really."

Her bottom lip ends up snug between her teeth. "So, I was wondering if you'd meet me for lunch afterward? The beach is a short drive from my apartment. We could take a walk."

"Is there an Oceanside motel, too? Cause if you're gonna be wearing a bikini, I'm going to have a problem that'll need immediate attention."

She laughs. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Seriously, I'm having a problem just thinking about it."

She imagines him alone in his room, his eyes casting downward to his need for her. The image of his long fingers wrapped around his own cock, working himself into frenzy dries her throat and steals her breath.

"Norma? You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Her words are quick. He could practically reach out and touch her arousal.

"What were you thinking about?"

"You touching yourself to the thought of me."

Norman's breathing trips over itself. "Shit. You liked it?"

"Yeah, I did."

"God, let me come over." Hurried, breathless.

Norma whimpers. "Norman."

"Please. Or you can come over here if you want. You don't have to stay too long. You can't leave me like this. It's cruel and unusual."

"Give me ten minutes."

* * *

His place is a bachelor pad. There's a pool table and a tiny kitchen and an upstairs that's nothing but a wide platform that holds his bed. A room to the left of the bed is dark and unused.

She smirks at her lover. "It's exactly what I expected."

"Shut up. You want a beer?"

"Why not?"

He retreats into the kitchen and she watches him bend down to retrieve two cans of beer from the very back of the bottom shelf. When he hands one over, their fingers brush each other and Norma's forced to suppress a shiver.

"So," Norman takes a long sip. "What's under there?"

She's wearing a beige trench coat that's closed tight. On her feet are a pair of black two inch heels. Norman licks his lips. She holds his gaze as she unties the coat, opening it with a grin.

Underneath is a red negligee. Sheer, made with as little material as possible, stopping at the midway point of her thighs.

"Good God." He comes to her, diving to her neck and leaving kisses like raindrops on her skin. His hands make quick work of the trench coat and soon soft fingers are sneaking under the nightgown. He touches her through her panties where wet heat is intensifying.

"Norman."

"Yes, baby?"

"Make love to me."

* * *

She goes home after she meets with the lawyer. More bullshit from John's side that Norma wasn't even slightly prepared to deal with. Evidence against the numerous affairs and a sworn statement. He wasn't going to let her out of this easy.

The clock mocks her. Norman would be here any minute to pick her up for lunch and she wasn't even dressed yet. With a sigh, she digs through her top drawer, pulling out a sky blue bikini that was guaranteed to drive Norman out of his mind.

She puts white short shorts and a white tank top over it and works to clear her brain of all the shit.

There's a knock on the front door.

* * *

His car smells of stale pizza. She wrinkles her nose. He gives her a side eye and squeezes the hand that rests on his thigh.

"What's that face for?"

"How many college kids have been in this thing?"

It's an off white 1999 Impala, a gift from his father. "A good number. A few of my friends haven't graduated yet."

"I can tell from this stench."

"Hey, careful, you'll hurt her feelings." He taps the dashboard with an open palm. "She didn't mean it."

"Oh, my God. You didn't strike me as the in love with my car type."

"I love Ingrid and she loves me. You don't understand our deep connection."

Norma bursts out laughing and leans over the console so she can kiss his cheek. "Okay. Since I can tell I'm the third wheel, I'll just keep quiet."

He takes his eyes from the road to address her. "Trust me, baby, Ingrid's the third wheel here."

* * *

It's eleven thirty on a Tuesday, which means the beach is decidedly less crowded than it usually is. Norma's glad because it also means fewer glances in their direction. Norman towers five inches above her anyway and with his baggy grey t-shirt and his black swim trunks, he easily passes for mid-twenties.

She wishes she could say the same. Maybe she could pass for early thirties, but she thinks even that's a long shot. Yet, Norman stares at her when she lifts off her tank top and deposits it into her tote bag. The fire in his eyes as they travel from her face to her belly button heats her up in all the right places.

She plays it cool. "Jesus, Norman. It's a damn bikini top."

"It's not the top. It's what's underneath it." He winks and puts his arm across her shoulders, tugging her against his side and pulling her forward along the sand.

"How'd it go?" His thumb rubs soothing circles on her shoulder. "With the divorce thing, I mean."

"It was all right. John's denying the affairs and his lawyer brought evidence to discount them. The man will fight, but he won't show up for the damn proceedings."

"I'm sorry." Norman doesn't know how to comfort her. Despite his dad's frequent business trips, the relationship his parents have is solid as it's ever been.

"It's okay. I expected it to be like this. It's over as far as I'm concerned. I don't need a piece of paper to make it real. I'll never take him back."

"You shouldn't have to. If he treated you like that, he doesn't deserve a thing from you."

Norma stops dead in her tracks, causing Norman to stop with her, confused. "You're right." She says. "He doesn't. You do. I want to focus on this, on us. I don't want you to think that I'd give this up to hear him out. You've made me feel better than I've felt in years. I'm happy when I'm with you. Believe that."

"I do." Their lips meet and the world around them fades into the distance. By the time Norman lets go, Norma's out of breath.

The waves crash in around his feet. He hardly feels it as he looks into Norma's clear blue eyes. He loves her. Two seconds, two minutes, two days, two weeks, two months, it didn't matter. He loves her right here and right now. Time is a formality. Norma is an exception to every rule he's ever made for himself.

"I love you, Norma. Honestly, I do."

Eyes are turning in their direction. They sear into Norma's back and out through the other side. It scares her, but it doesn't last. She doesn't care. He's changing something inside her, opening her up and looking in and refusing to look away. Her darkest pieces and her heartache and her bitterness. Norman's seeing it all and doing nothing aside from caring for her on the other end.

She has no doubt that he means what he says. Love is present in every move he makes. That rips into her and lifts her into a place where nothing matters anymore. Just him and the knack he has for making the world disappear.

"I think I love you, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."


	2. Part Two: Black Holes and Revelations

It's hard and fast and passionate. The way he's kissing her, tongue half way down her throat, hands groping. He's got her flush against her front door. They haven't even gotten inside yet. She's fumbling with her keys, hanging off the index finger of her left hand. The cold metal presses into the back of his neck.

"Norman. Mmmmmm….let me open the door. I'd really rather fuck you in private." The broken words bounce off his swollen lips. He backs a little further away.

"Go ahead." As she suspects, he molds himself to her when she turns around, his mouth closing around her thrumming pulse point. The door squeaks on the hinges and he practically pushes her forward, chuckling into her skin.

She spins back around as the door seals shut. His spine collides with it hard and his breath leaves in a rush.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket.

"Shit." Her expression bleeds apology. "Give me a second." Flushed and breathless, she answers.

"Hey, honey…huh? Slow down. You're where?" Her fingers run a frantic trail through her disheveled hair. Norman stays plastered to the wall, observing the fear that comes over her.

"Dylan. All right, all right. I'll come get you. Are you okay? Is the hospital going to…? I'll be there soon. Love you, too."

She hangs up and finds herself face to face with Norman's morbid curiosity. "What is it?"

"Dylan wrecked his car. His blood alcohol level was just above the legal limit. If I don't pick him up, they'll make him spend the night in juvie."

"He didn't hurt anyone, did he?"

"Just himself. He wrapped the fucking thing around a light post. I'll be back. You can stay here if you want. Hang out. It'll make me feel better to know you're here waiting for me."

"No problem. I'll stay here and have a long phone conversation with that old girlfriend."

Norma mocks offense. "Don't you dare."

"Just kidding, beautiful. See you soon."

* * *

Death warmed over and spat Dylan back out. His ribs are wrapped tight and there's a thick bandage on his left eyebrow. His blonde hair carries the faintest remnants of blood. Norma can see bruises on his shoulders and collarbone.

She's never hugged him so hard in her life. "Oh my God. I'm so glad you're all right."

He squeezes her to him for a second then groans in pain. "It's good to see you, too, mom, but could you…"

"Shit. I'm sorry." She steps away again, smiling sadly at his battered state. "What's wrong with you? You could've died." Tears well up at the idea. A life where she outlived her own child. Unthinkable.

He jumps down off the hospital bed, unsteady on his feet. His mother takes his hand to guide him.

"I'm sorry." He says. "I was going through something with Bradley and I just…wanted to get away from it."

Norma shuts her eyes to the phantom ache. "I know it's hard, but sometimes you have to avoid your self-destructive instinct. The one I gave you, by the way."

His lips touch her hair. "It's okay. Just get me the hell out of here."

* * *

She has no choice but to take Dylan back to her apartment. He needs sleep without having to worry about anything else and if there's anything Norma would ever want to do for him, it's keep him comfortable. Thankfully, Norman's not awake. From what she can tell, he fell asleep in her bedroom; the TV's throwing shadows on the doorframe.

She helps Dylan to the couch and gets him extra pillows and a blanket. He winces when he shifts onto his stomach. Norma's heart twists.

"Night." Her lips brush his cheek.

* * *

Norman's stripped down to his boxers; his clothes are strewn haphazardly at all four corners of the bed. Norma sighs at the clear wrinkles of childlike behavior still left in him. She'd have to iron them out, but not tonight. Tonight, she curls beneath the covers and into his arms, grinning when he opens his eyes to slits and completes the embrace.

"Hey."

She leans her head into his shoulder and threads their fingers together. "Hey."

"Is everything okay?"

Norma sighs again, this time in unforced contentment. "Everything's fine."

* * *

The sunrise the next morning is witnessed by no one in the small top floor apartment. It's when the sun's shadow is far past the bedroom window that Norman finally awakes, warm in Norma's presence, holding her around the waist and squeezing down on her fingers.

He kisses her temple. "Baby."

She feels him all around her, his bare chest against her back and opens her eyes. "Norman."

The clock reads ten thirty. "You have to go back to work today, right?" His voice is thick.

"Yeah."

"You go in at 2?"

"Yeah."

"Then go take a shower and I'll make you coffee, okay?"

Her hand reaches up and touches his cheek. "Thank you."

"No problem."

* * *

For the first time since he's been with Norma, he feels like the intruder. Her son is asleep on the couch, visibly bruised and beaten from the accident the night before. Norman doesn't know how to play this particular game. It's never happened to him. He's never felt jealous of a boy who's clearly adored by his mother. The feeling is strange and immediate and Norman isn't sure where it even comes from. He's close to his mother, too, after all. There's something else here, though. Dylan stirs up bad blood or fear or some combination of the two. Norman senses a kind of familiarity, like he should know who this kid is. Strangely, it's the same connection he feels with Norma.

Fate, maybe. Or maybe it's something worse. Norman doesn't allow himself time to dwell on it. He just goes about brewing the coffee, his back to Dylan.

"Who the hell are you?"

Suddenly, Norman's glad he put a t-shirt on. He turns to meet Dylan's bleary eyes. "I'm a friend of your mom's. I'm sorry to uh…"

Norma steps out of the bedroom in a deep blue robe. Wet hair sticks to her temples. "He's a good friend and he just as much right to be here as you. His name is Norman. Norman, this is my son, Dylan."

Dylan stares a hole through him, but at least he stands and shakes Norman's hand. "Good to meet you." Norman smiles polite as he can.

"Yeah. You, too."

* * *

To Norma's surprise, Dylan maintains civility all throughout breakfast. He smiles and he laughs and he answers every question Norman poses. It's after Norman leaves sometime around noon that the mask shatters. The look he shoots her is cruel and judgmental.

"You're having sex with him? He's my age."

"He's twenty five and it's none of your business what our relationship is." She sighs. "Now what the hell's going on with Bradley and why the hell were you driving around wasted?"

"Nothing happened. It's fine now."

The run around has always been Dylan's special tactic. He was even better at it than she was. She's not in the mood. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It'll be all right."

She holds up her hands in defeat. "If you say so."

"I do say so. What right do you have to talk to me about my relationship? You drove dad away and you're off fucking a twenty year old like some kind of goddamn pervert."

God, why hadn't she seen this coming? "You better watch the way you talk to me. Norman and I are just friends. And I've told you a thousand times that what's happening with your father is not my fault."

"Whatever, Norma. I don't care."

Exasperation paints itself all over her posture. She's danced this dance with him too many times. "If you're on his side, then why are you here?"

"He's out of town."

"You ever think about where he goes?"

Dylan shrugs. "Doesn't matter."

"Oh, it matters. He's…You know what? Never mind. Believe whatever the hell you want. Do whatever the hell you want, throw away your relationship, I don't give a shit. Just get out of my house. Find your own way home."

It's the first thing that's actually affected him. Frightened eyes find hers. "Mom…"

"Get out."

* * *

She's on a tear today. It's a Saturday and she's invited him over the way she always does, except for the part where today is the day she finally learns his dirty secret.

"Emma said you're falling for this one. Who is she?"

"Mom, please. I didn't come over for another interrogation."

"Well, I just want to know. It sounds like she could be special." Katherine Bates had a knack for sweetening her son up. She's an older woman, in her late forties, pretty but worn. Her dark brown hair flows well past her shoulders and her hazel eyes stand out bright.

"She is. But, it's complicated."

His eyes flick over to the TV as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"Complicated how?" Mrs. Bates is a patient woman, but no one tried that patience more often than Norman did.

He's exasperated because he's been going around this question ever since Emma gave her the news the first time. It's wearing him out. "She's older than me."

Her foot taps on the carpet and her hand treads awkwardly down her pant leg. "How much older?"

Norman breathes in. "Ten years." Norma could pass for early thirties, thank God. He hates lying to his mother, but he couldn't tell her that the age difference was far closer to two decades. She'd tell him to stop seeing Norma and he didn't want to. Besides, even Norma was unaware of their true age difference.

"Norman, what are you thinking?! What do you even know about this woman? What if she's a predator or something?"

He blows out a breath. "Mom, she's not a predator. This is a serious relationship."

"It is?"

"Yes, Mother, it is. I'm in love with her." He hasn't even said it to Norma yet, though he's been sure of it for a while. It'd only been three months, but time didn't mean a thing. He knows what he feels when he looks at her, when he touches her, when she smiles at him. He never wants any of it to end. Infatuation was just a phase; this was not a phase. This was real.

"In love? How could you know what that even means? How long have you been seeing her?"

"Three months."

"Norman, you can't be serious."

"I am, Mother. I really am."

* * *

He shows up with white roses, her favorite. He's wearing a navy blue dress shirt and dark jeans and his hair's parted off to the side, a small smattering of bangs falling over his forehead. He's also appearing very apologetic, which she supposes is the point of the flowers. He's a whole fifteen minutes late. She takes the roses from him and moves to the side so he can step past her.

The dining room table sticks out, brandished with candles and a fancy table cloth. A light glow from the flickering flames illuminates the room. Soft music plays in the background. Some old-timely love song his mother used to play all the time when he was a kid. Nostalgia ties him up.

_Love Me Tender_ that's the name of it. Elvis Presley. Norman watches Norma drop the flowers into an empty vase on the table.

"This song." He says. "My mother used to play this song all the damn time."

"Really? It's my favorite. A little before my time, thank God, but beautiful all the same."

He takes her in. She's in a floral patterned dress that hugs her in all the right places. The black heels she wears put her no less than half an inch below him. Usually, she's three or four inches down.

"Yeah. Beautiful."

Her arms lock around his neck. He wraps her up, keeping her flush against him, their mouths a breath apart.

"I could get very used to this." He whispers.

"I hope so cause I plan to keep you around for a while. You know, pick up my dry cleaning. Make my coffee."

"And here I thought you wanted me for my other talents." That cocky smirk shows up again.

"While I'll admit that your talents are vast, I could also…" His mouth devours hers, silencing her. He breaks it after a long minute.

"I'll be anything you want me to be. For as long as you'll let me."

"I'm glad."

* * *

_Five months later…_

He lets go inside her, his whole body trembling, his breathing ragged. He crumbles into her arms, his head against her chest. Her fingers stroke through his hair. Sweat clings to his temples, his skin still warm to the touch.

"God." He murmurs. He shifts so he can kiss along her collarbone.

She makes an affirmative noise in the back of her throat. Their lower bodies are still connected; neither of them are in a hurry to break the intimate contact.

Norma loves these quiet moments more than anything. Where they're not doing much more than existing in a place that was only theirs. Norman pulls out of her and immediately, she misses him. There are times where she's convinced that he's somehow always been a part of her and that she's finally found it. A missing piece she never knew had left.

He rolls off her and lands heavily on his back, letting out a contented sigh. She gets up and heads toward the bathroom, feeling nothing aside from his lustful gaze burning a hole right through her. By the time she cleans up and returns to him, his eyes have closed. They open again when he feels her weight press into the mattress.

"I'm awake."

She snorts. "It's okay, honey. You can sleep." She cuddles back into his arms.

"Don't want to. Have to go again."

Now, she expels a full belly laugh. Her index finger rides his jaw line. "I'll still be here when you wake up."

"We can go again then, too."

"Christ. You're insatiable."

He looks down at her and gives her a sated little half-smile, just the slightest quirk of his lips. "You have that effect on me."

"I've noticed."

Comfortable silence encompasses them. Norman's the one who shatters it.

"We should get something together."

"What?" She'd been lost in thought. Caught in an imagining of what life with Norman would look like.

"I mean, we should run a business together or something. You know, just to have both our names on it. It'd be the closest thing to marriage. I have my business degree and you have your numerous…assets. It could work."

"I don't know."

"It wouldn't have to be a giant venture. Just something small and manageable. A motel, maybe."

She furrows her eyebrows and moves so she can face him dead on. "You want us to run a motel together?" Disbelief draws creases in her skin.

"I want to see you every second of every day. I want to have something with you. Something permanent."

"Norman, this is a serious thing."

"We've been going at this for almost a year. I just thought…"

She kisses him, soft and sweet and gentle. "Honey, believe me, you don't need to make a grand gesture to prove anything to me. Be with me. That's all I want."

"I'm frustrated is all. I want a real life with you and I have to jump through hoops to have it."

"You don't have to jump through anything. I know how you feel about me and us. That's what counts."

"I guess." He sits up, balancing himself on his elbow, and cups her cheek. The barest hints of sweat still peek out on his bare chest. "I love you."

"I know you do." She grabs him at the back of the neck. "I love you, too. Very much."

His mouth ghosts over hers. "You know, it's getting harder to appease my mother. I can't keep making lame excuses for you. She wants to meet you something fierce."

"Is she lightening up yet?"

"She knows that I'm head over heels crazily madly completely in love with you. But, then again, she also thinks you're thirty one."

Norma's eyes grow big. "You lied to her?"

"I had to. She would've made me stop seeing you if I told her the truth." He nuzzles against her cheek. "Come on, baby, you could totally pass for thirty one. Just wear a little extra make up." She slaps his shoulder.

"Asshole."

"I'm kidding. You're gorgeous and honestly, you don't look a day over thirty-nine."

She hits him again and he chuckles. "You're lucky I love you or I'd give you a black eye for that." Her words are threatening, but her smile is bright.

"I'm very lucky, then." His hand takes hold of hers, his thumb caressing her knuckles. "So, what do you say? We're having a family barbeque this weekend. I want you to come. I want to show you off. Hell, it'll probably make my dad jealous."

Norma giggles. It's a young sound, more school girl than house wife.

"It will." Norman goes on. "I'll say, 'dad, this is my woman.' And he'll say 'you've gotta be fucking joking. You landed that?' You'll see. Come on. It'll be fun."

She studies him until he's forced to resort to desperate measures. "Please." He kisses her mouth, once, twice. "I want to show off my woman. You're a goddess and I want everyone to know that I got you."

Her hands frame his face. "Your woman?"

"Yeah." She bites down on his bottom lip, maintains the exquisite pressure for a fleeting second. He moves in to kiss her fully, but she keeps him away.

"Okay."

"Thank you." He pushes her onto her back and claims her parted lips. Her body accepts him again and Norma realizes that with every passing time, it gets harder to let him go.

* * *

He wakes up alone, surrounded by Norma's scent. His breaths are slow and even. Nothing hurt. Everything felt light. Except maybe the burning sensation that tingles up and down his spine. The bathroom door opens and Norma emerges, wrapped tight in a towel.

"Modesty isn't becoming of you." He teases. Lazy Sunday meant he could have her any way he wanted all day and spend all night with her. He smirks at the thought only to have it disappear when Norma drops her towel. She's beat him yet again.

"Shit."

She takes a long journey around the bed toward her closet and Norman can't move. In his eyes, her beauty couldn't be matched. She steps into the walk in closet without closing the door.

"Why are you getting dressed?"

Her head turns in his direction. "Because I'm not going to walk around naked all day and watch you act like a hound dog."

Arousal covers him. He wants to be indignant, but he can't seem to find the strength. He slides to the edge of the bed and stands up, naked and out to prove a point. She's pulling on a pair of sweatpants when he steps into the enclosed space. Her eyes lift and she's face to groin with him. Something hot bursts inside her. She stands to full height.

"What are you doing?"

"I wanna fulfill my hound dog duties. I figured it'd be easier to do that if I had a closer seat."

He's absolutely the worst thing in the whole world, but somehow he's the also the best thing she's ever known. A gush of love for him fills her up.

"Tell me. Has your mother ever smacked you upside the head?"

"All the time. It hasn't done a thing to change my ways. I think you're gonna have to whip me into shape."

She pulls down a plain white t-shirt from a nearby hanger and puts it on before she replies.

"Don't tempt me."

Lust gathers heavy in his veins, deep maroon and dangerous.

"Go." She says, nudging him with her foot. He turns to exit her closet and she catches sight of the long scratches on his back, her very own handiwork. They're still puffed out a bit, fresh, but at least they're not bleeding.

"Crap."

He looks over his shoulder as she closes the closet door. "What is it?"

"By any chance is your back bothering you?"

Confusion mars his features. "Yeah. Why?"

"I might have done some damage last night."

She runs her touch down one of the marks, heading in a downward trail from his shoulder to his hip.

He hisses at the pain that hits him with her motion. "Damn. Maybe you don't need that whip, after all."

* * *

For two days, they don't see each other. He's out doing interview after interview, waving his business degree around. Since Norma turned down his proposal, he's been putting his energy into other ventures, dipping his toes into big businesses along the coastline. Hotels are the best places to start, that's what his father always told him.

Now, it's three o'clock in the afternoon on the second day of no contact and he's slipping away.

Her phone rings four times before she picks it up. "Hi, honey."

"Hey. How are you?" He paces back and forth across his living room, one hand in his pocket.

"Not too bad. How's the search going?"

"Pretty well. I'm exhausted, though. And Ingrid's running low on gas."

The smile on her face lives on in her voice. "You should treat her better."

"How can I do that when I spend all my time treating you?" He breathes out. "I'm sorry I can't see you tonight either. It's just my mom's stopping by and…"

"Don't worry about it, baby."

"I just don't want you to think I'm avoiding you or something."

"Norman, I know you well enough to know that the last thing you would ever do is avoid me on purpose."

The chuckle he lets out warms her up. "You're right, sweetheart. You're completely right. I'll miss you. It'll be pretty awkward to be thinking about you while I eat dinner with my mother."

"I think I'll sleep naked just to make it more awkward for you."

His eyes fall closed, picturing her on top of her covers, touching herself without him there. "You're evil."

Norma's quiet for a long second. Then, she says,

"I want you so much. All the time."

"I know. Trust me, I know."

"It's ridiculous. I can't make it through the day without you sneaking up on me."

"That's a good thing, baby. In fact, it's the best thing I've ever heard…Would you meet me for lunch tomorrow? I have something for you."

"You do?" That airy quality returns to her tone.

"Yeah. I picked it up when I was driving around today."

"Can't wait. Love you, sweetie."

"I love you, too."

* * *

It's the little things about him that do her in. That he calls her 'baby' and has to duck his head to kiss her. Or how he relays sweet nothings in the same breath with dirty thoughts. How he tells her he loves her every day and never makes her feel small or worthless the way John often did. It's strange to love a man who loves her more, who treats her with kindness and respect. Norman's the light at the end of the darkest tunnel and she had no intention of letting him go.

She shows up at the cafe in jeans and a tight black V-neck. Her blonde hair falls to her shoulders in waves. He's waiting at a table on the patio, his hands folded on the tabletop, his mustard yellow dress shirt reflecting the sun's rays. There's a large, flat velvet black jewelry box beside him.

"Hey." He stands when he sees her and kisses her forehead. It's been three days since she's seen him, so even that slight touch creates a lump of desire deep in her belly.

"Hi. I'm guessing dinner with your mother went well." She settles into the seat across from him, fixing him with a thoughtful gaze.

"Yeah. She asked about you again. I told her you were excited to meet her."

"I am. As long as she doesn't stab me."

Norman grins. "I'll hide the knives. Don't worry."

"Thanks." Norma puts on a mock horrified expression. "The things I do for you."

"Are greatly appreciated." His hand covers hers and he applies the slightest pressure to her fingers.

"As they should be. This is a life or death situation here."

"Calm down." He drops a kiss to her knuckles. "I care about you too much to let my mother drive you away. She won't change my mind about you, no matter what happens."

"I believe you."

"Good." He lets go of her hand. "I guess now is as good a time as any to give you your gift." The way he clears his throat endears her. It's nervous. He pushes the box across the space between them, his head ducked. The gift switches hands with a brush of fingertips. "If you don't like it, I can always…"

"Norman, stop." The velvet box clicks open. Her next sound is a gasp. Within the box is a sterling silver necklace that boasts a key shaped charm with a ruby in the center that sticks out blinding red.

"Wow. It's beautiful. Thank you, baby."

"You're welcome."

"Where did you find the money to pay for this?"

"I'll be paying it off for the next thirty years, but as long as you like it…"

Her body stiffens.

Norman laughs. "I'm kidding. Don't worry about the money. Please."

* * *

Much later that afternoon, they're curled up in her bed and Norman's holding the pendant between his thumb and forefinger, studying the way it shines even in dull light.

"It's a key to my heart, by the way. The ruby is my heart and the key is how to unlock it."

Norma chortles. "You're such a corny asshole."

"Blame my dad. He's a cornball, too."

"It's sweet."

"Yeah. Yeah…It looks good on you. Especially when it's all you're wearing."

"Good to know." Their fingers interlace and Norma sighs. "I'm afraid." She says.

"Afraid of what?" Confusion infects him.

"Of losing you. To anything. I'm uneasy and I don't know why."

He nuzzles into her neck and inhales the sweet scent of her hair. Calmness overrides the uncertainty. "You don't have to be. I'm not going anywhere."

"I know."

"And I already told you, you don't have to worry about my family. Once they meet you, they'll understand my point of view. I'll be there with you. You'll be safe."

She stares up at him, blown away by his sincerity and the amount of love present in his gaze. Her thumb reaches up and rides the line of his cheekbone.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

His kiss is deep, his tongue dipping past her teeth. She lets out a strangled whimper and gathers him to her, desperate to possess him. Those blue eyes that take over her dreams are on fire when he pulls away. His breath fans across her face.

"You don't have any reason to be afraid. I'll take care of you."

"Come here."

He crumbles into her arms again and she cradles him close, dropping kisses on his jawline.

"I love you, Norman. So much."

* * *

She never wants it to end. But, sadly for her, it does anyway. In retrospect, it was probably a good thing that she never made it to the barbeque. She certainly preferred quiet disintegration to outright chaos. It's all a coincidence, really. She just happens to be at the grocery store the same time they are. It's him she sees first, standing in the cereal aisle, lost in a seemingly tough decision between Cocoa Puffs and Lucky Charms. It's with an extra skip in her step that she covers the space between them.

"Don't even pretend the Lucky Charms have a chance." She says.

Norman's eyes slide to her. He knows it's her; that voice filled every waking thought.

"I know. It's unfair. Hey, baby. Funny seeing you here."

"It never occurred to you that we might shop in the same grocery store?"

"No. I mean your apartment's a good forty five minutes away." He pulls her into an embrace that's far too short for Norma's liking.

"I didn't say I came out here often."

"You can admit it. You were hoping to see me."

"You got me. Are you here alone because I'd love to...?" _Fuck you in the parking lot_.

"No. I'm not..."

She turns down their aisle right at that second, calling Norman's name and frantically pushing a full shopping cart.

Norman smiles as he puts an arm over Norma's shoulders. Norma can't breathe but manages to drive a palm into his ribs, forcing him to let go. She doesn't look up to absorb his confusion. She just keeps staring straight ahead at the woman who's joined them, petrified.

"Norman, we don't have all day to spend in the cereal aisle." She too catches Norma and freezes. How is it that she could look like she hadn't aged a day?

"Mom, come on. I want you to..."

"Norma?"

"Hi, Katie."

Norman's eyes race from one to the other, confusion obvious on his features.

"You two know each other?"

Kate looks at her son. "Of course. Do you two know each other?"

"Yeah. She's..."

Norma finds herself somewhere and cuts in. "No, we don't. It was nice seeing you, Katie."

Her entire world falls around her in shambles when she walks away.

Norman stands perplexed and unnerved. Did he do something to make her angry? No, that wasn't anger. That was panic he saw flash in her eyes.

"Norman, how do you know her?" His mother's voice invades his colliding thoughts.

"Uh, she's a friend. I don't know her that well." He lies because he sees nothing aside from Norma's fear and her insistence that they didn't know each other. What the hell was going on?

"So, it's either that she hasn't told you or she didn't know it was you before now."

"Told me what? How do you know her?"

"For a long time, she was my best friend." She puts a warm hand on his shoulder. Instead of making him feel better, it brings with it a vicious cold. "Norman, look at me." He does what his mother asks, but her eyes only make him worse. "Norman, that was your mother. Your birth mother."

He goes numb and at the same time, he feels like he's been flattened by a runaway freight train. "Mom, what the hell are you talking about?" All he can think about is all the nights he's spent making love to Norma, feeling her hands on him, falling hopelessly in love with her. How he wanted to love her forever.

"She's never wanted to know a thing about you. I raised you on her wishes. Did everything for you; everything she was too afraid to do."

His breath leaves in a rush. "No."

"It's true." Those eyes he knows so well are saddened. She feels terrible for him, he can tell. Still, she doesn't understand. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way." She says.

Norman stares into the space Norma had occupied.

No.

* * *

He makes some excuse that barely registers and runs from his childhood home almost the second they pull up in the driveway. He says goodbye to his mother and gets in his own car, driving away from the place he's always considered to be his home. Turns out it was full of lies and illusions. Not home; not anymore. His mother wasn't his mother. She might as well be a stranger. And Norma. Oh, God. His real mother. He slams hard on the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, over and over until the pain sits pretty on his shoulder and mocks him.

He's in a trance. He doesn't even know where he's heading until the car stops and he finds himself in Norma's apartment complex.

* * *

Her reaction isn't violent. She doesn't run home and toss her apartment. She falls into a catatonic state, feeling like she might want to tear the world down, but not having the strength.

Tears don't fall. There's nothing aside from an emptiness that swallows her whole.

He knocks on the door, heavy handed and frantic.

She knows it's him. Who else could it be?

* * *

He's deathly pale, his posture stock straight. His eyes are empty, staring into her and right out the other side. He doesn't even seem to register where he is until numb words fall from his lips.

"You're my mother. My _real _mother."

She hugs herself in an effort to keep her pieces together. "I am."

He steps over the threshold. The slam of the door startles both of them for a split second. Norman continues to stare at her. He doesn't know her; he doesn't recognize her; he doesn't love her; he's never seen her before in his life.

"Did you know?"

"No, of course not. I told you, I never knew a thing about you. I gave you to Katie with instructions to keep you to herself."

A snarl rips its way past his gritted teeth. "You gave me away. You abandoned me. How could you not feel a thing? How could you not want to know me?"

"I did. I do. Norman, please…" She reaches for him, but he flinches away from her.

"Don't." He walks past her and puts his hands on his hips. His shoulders shake. When he turns back around, tears are welling up. "You don't love me. You never loved me. I'm nothing to you."

"Norman, you know that's not true."

"How do I know that?! Cause you fucked me a few times? What about now, huh? Do you hate me again? I'm your mistake. I'm everything you never wanted. You abandoned me and got yourself a real family and showed up again. Worse, you made me fall in love with you. Fuck." He collapses to the sofa and drops his head into his hands. "I'm in love with you. I wanted to spend my life with you. My own mother. Jesus Christ." His wet eyes find hers again. "Are you happy now? Does it make you happy to know you've ruined my life?"

"No." She says. "I hate it. I hate what I've done to you. I never wanted any of this. I love you so much."

"Don't say that! You're not allowed to say that. You're a piece of shit."

"Norman."

"Stop." He stays quiet for a long span of time. Then,

"God, she named me after you, didn't she? It was never a fucking coincidence."

"I guess she wanted you to have some part of me."

"Well, I have plenty of you now, don't I?!" Deep blue eyes stare her down. If looks could kill, she'd have eight bullet wounds in her chest. "Goddamn it!" He stumbles to his feet and moves away from her again. All she can do is follow. "I should hate you. I should hate you."

"You have every right to."

He spins on her. "You're damn right I do. You left me." A finger in her face and a fire in his eyes that burns her alive and leaves behind a pile of ashes. The feelings she has for him squeeze and bend and break, ripping at what she hadn't known were fragile seams. "You left me." Sobs break apart his words.

"I'm sorry." She gathers him in her arms. He allows it, falling into her like he's done a thousand times before. His grip on her is tight, but she doesn't care. All she wants is to exist in this space with him. The boy she abandoned and the man she destroyed. Guilt tears her to shreds. "I'm so sorry."

After what could be hours, he realizes what he's doing and rips himself away. He's wide eyed, frightened and everything inside him is shriveling into nothingness. The whole world slips through his fingers. His future withers. His deep love for the woman before him remains.

His creator. His destroyer. His universe.

"God damn it." He says it again, this time punctuating it by driving his fist into the nearest wall. The heavy sound startles Norma, who can only watch helplessly as he does it again and again and again, deafening her to everything except his torment. His knuckles are split when he finally ceases.

Her grip folds onto his forearm to keep him from resuming. Her thumb brushes the wound and comes back bright red. "Norman. Norman, stop. You're going to break it."

"I don't care. It doesn't hurt." He forces her away by gently unfolding her fingers. The lover's touch momentarily subdues her. But, it's over. "Don't touch me. Please."

Hurt unfurls inside her. There's nothing she can do. There's no way to save him. He's as good as gone and it's all her fault.

"I'm sorry." That's all there is.

"You're sorry? Save it. It isn't worth a goddamn thing. I'm the one who's suffering here. Don't you understand? I loved you and you've ruined me. You both have. You lied to me for my entire life. How did I deserve any of this? I haven't done a thing to either of you."

"You don't deserve this."

"No." His heart feels weak, like it might give out if he takes another step. "I don't. You do. You deserve this. You deserve every last ounce of it." The venom on his tongue scares him. He never thought he'd ever get this way, especially around her. "I hope you feel what you've done every day for the rest of your life. I hope it eats at you." She ducks her head to counteract his backlash. Resigning herself to the pain he wishes on her. He's right. It's the least she deserves for this. He walks past her, back toward the front door.

She never sees him again.


	3. Epilogue: The Big Come Down

Katie shows up on her doorstep, too. Though it's much later now. A good week has gone by since Norman walked out on her and she hasn't gone farther than her refrigerator. The TV's on, but Norma's numb to it. Her heart's in pieces and she couldn't ever hope to repair it.

It's the loud burst of sound from behind the closed door that finally breaks her from her stupor. She doesn't expect it to be Katie, but it is and she doesn't look particularly happy.

"Hello again." Norma's voice is weaker than her appearance.

"What the hell is this?" the other woman holds out a wearing photograph. In it, Norman's got Norma around the waist and his face is hidden in her neck. Her fingers are tight in his hair and she's smiling up into the camera, held in place by her other hand. Neither of them are wearing much of anything. Norma would be embarrassed if she weren't so empty.

"Where did you find that?"

"It was hidden in Norman's bedside dresser drawer. What the hell were you doing with him?"

"I didn't know who he was."

"Do you make a habit of screwing men half your age?"

"I didn't know who he was!" Norma bursts. The ferocity in her tone drives Kate back a couple of steps. "You think I would've done this if I knew? What do you take me for?"

Kate's gaze falls to the floor. "He's gone."

"What?"

"He's gone. Emma and I have been looking for days. We've called his cell phone. He won't pick up. He ran. He ran from everything because of you."

Norma's sure her heart stops cold in her chest. Any moment, she'll collapse to the floor, deader than a door nail. She's decimated a man who loved her entirely; who would've given her everything. A man she loved just as much if not more. Her long lost son found in tatters.

She fingers the pendant around her neck. The last of Norman. The final piece.

Kate notices the movement. "He give you that?"

"Yeah."

"Well then, you better hold onto it. It's all I'll let you have." She turns back toward the door.

"Kate."

Their eyes lock. It's lethal from Kate's end, but Norma's tired and worn and defeated. "Despite what you're probably thinking, I loved him. I loved him more than anything. I loved him when he was born and I loved him every day I spent away from him. I loved him before I knew who he was and I love him now. Your son is the greatest man I've ever known and I can't thank you enough for raising him as well as you did. And I couldn't be more sorry for what I've done to both of you. I just…I'm so sorry."

"It's too late, Norma. You blew it."

"I know I did. I know. That doesn't change what I feel. I wish I could take it all back. All I want is to take it back. To go back and raise him for real or at least know him."

"I'm sorry you ruined that for yourself. Honestly, I am. But, I refuse to forgive you. You've wrecked three lives by coming back here and I will not forgive you."

Norma doesn't watch her leave.

* * *

He drives. Hours, days, months, who knows how long. He's got a couple thousand bucks to his name and he makes it last all the way through California into Oregon. It's one in the morning, maybe a week since he walked out of Norma's apartment and he's parking outside a bar. Rundown and half way toward shut down for good. It doesn't matter. It's something. He orders rum and coke and bends over the counter, desperate and slightly deranged from a lack of sleep. Everything comes in subdued bursts of color, including the girl in the tight knee length dress who strides toward him with purpose.

Norman's eyes scan her face. She's pretty. Blue eyed and blonde haired. If he squints, she could be Norma's younger, less devastating double.

"Hey." She says.

A smile paints itself onto Norman's lips. It's forced. "Hey. How are you?"

"Fine. You?"

He's wondering what it'd be like to take her out to the parking lot and bend her over in the backseat of his car. He's wondering if it'll make him feel less like tearing his own eyes out. "Not too bad now." His voice nearly trips over itself in his inebriated and sleepless state. He holds out his hand. "Norman."

The girl takes his offer and smiles a little bigger. "Bailey."

"Well, come here." He pats the empty stool beside him. "What're you drinking?"

"Scotch neat." The bartender nods at her and pours the amber liquid a quarter of the way in a square glass.

"So," Norman shifts in his seat. "You here alone?"

"Yeah. I guess I needed to get away."

Norma's image creeps up on his mind's eye. "I know what you mean." He shoots her a cocky little smirk and leans closer. "What do you say we get away together? Just for a bit."

As it turns out, she's easier than he figured she would be. She giggles. "I'd like that."

"I know you would."

* * *

She never stops thinking about Norman. Where he went or how he is or if he's even alive. It eats at her the way he promised it would. She misses him every second. Nothing fills the void he left behind. Dylan comes back. Shows up on her doorstep and tells her she was right and hugs her close. He tells her that John revealed his true colors and Norma's not a bit surprised. Too bad Dylan doesn't know that she has true colors of her own.

Either way, he watches over her and he loves her and he laughs and smiles and makes jokes at her expense. But, he never finds her emptiness, probably never even sees it. She sees it every time she meets her own eyes in the mirror. Sunken and sullen, darkened with heartache and regret. The wound never heals and she didn't ever really expect it to.

When Norman went away, he took everything she was with him.

* * *

He dreams about her. Her smile, her voice, the ocean breeze kicking up her hair. Words that mean nothing fall from her lips. 'I miss you' and 'I love you' and 'I'm thinking about you.'

What used to be his brightest dream has become his blackest nightmare. He wakes in a cold sweat every morning and hits the bottle before the sun even peeks over the horizon. It's a self-destructive path, but he doesn't ever want to abandon the beaten trail. The downfall tastes too good.

Her presence doesn't leave him so he buries it in Bailey, who visits him often in his rented rathole apartment. He can tell she's falling for him, but he can't summon up the strength to tell her that he'll never belong to anyone else.

He belongs to the ghost of a woman who should mean nothing to him. His attempts to drown her have backfired. The memory of her is stronger than ever.

He's Norma's until he breathes his final breath, for better or for worse.


End file.
